


Experiments

by firethesound



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Kitchen Sex, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:10:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firethesound/pseuds/firethesound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco always bottomed and Harry wondered if maybe there was something he was missing. It's a shame Draco's not around to help him figure it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experiments

It had been a right bitch of a day, and thank god it was finally over. Harry slammed the front door behind him and stripped off his coat, letting it fall to the floor at his feet. Draco would whinge about that, no doubt, and remind him that coats belonged in the coat closet, but bugger it all, he’d had a shit day and all he wanted right now was a good hard shag and a hot shower, preferably in that order.

“Draco!” he called out when the echoes of the door slam had faded, his coat still lay rumpled on the floor, and no one had shown up to bitch at him for it. “Draco?”

The house remained still and dark and silent around him. Harry scowled, then stomped his way to the kitchen. A single leaf of parchment lay on the counter, and Harry snatched it up, groaning aloud before he’d even read it. He knew what notes on the counter meant. Sure enough, Draco had penned a few lines to let Harry know that he was called away on some urgent business. He expected to return that night, but warned Harry not to wait on him for dinner.

Harry crumpled the paper in his hands, mashing it into a tight ball before hurling it at the trash bin. It struck the edge and bounced away under the table. Harry imagined himself on his hands and knees, arse wagging in the air as he tried to squeeze his way between table and chair legs to fetch it, and decided to leave it. He glowered at it once more for good measure, then turned and stomped his way up the stairs.

He shed his clothing as he crossed the bedroom he shared with Draco, his shirt and trousers and socks leaving a trail to the bathroom. Harry paused in the doorway to cast a spiteful glare at the bed he wouldn't be having sex in that evening, and slammed the door shut. Reaching into the shower, he turned on the taps and waited impatiently for the water to warm. When it did, he stepped inside and turned his back to the shower head, letting the droplets beating down on his back wash away some of his stress. After a few glorious minutes he began to feel almost human. He soaped himself up quickly and efficiently, eager to be done with the business and move along to the pleasure. If he couldn’t work out the rest of his irritation with a good hard shag, then he was sure as hell going to make do with a good hard wank.

Satisfied with his cleanliness, Harry sighed and closed his eyes as he took himself in hand. He wished Draco were there. He imagined Draco standing behind him, stomach pressed to his back, one arm wrapped possessively over his middle. Imagined that it was Draco’s hand rather than his own that firmly stroked his stiffening cock, sliding lower to caress his balls before sweeping back up the shaft and brushing a thumb over the head. If Draco were here, he’d waste little time before grasping Harry gently by the hips and turning him around. He’d drop down to his knees, pausing to give Harry that wicked little smirk before he took Harry into his mouth and swallowed hard.

Harry couldn’t suppress a little groan and his hand began to move faster. Draco would suck vigorously, head bobbing back and forth while his tongue laved long strokes up the underside of Harry’s cock, giving a teasing little lick to the head at the end of every arc. He’d work him up right to the edge, until Harry could barely think straight, his mind filled only with his own impending orgasm.

The scene in Harry’s head shifted, and he now had Draco pinned to the bed as he thrust into that tight, hot little arse. Draco would be writhing beneath him, moaning wantonly, begging Harry _more_ , begging Harry _harder_ , begging Harry _please!_ Draco was always so beautifully enthusiastic during sex.

Harry's fingers tightened and stilled in their work. Draco always bottomed. He always had, in the two years they’d been shagging, and Harry never questioned it. The idea of some bloke sticking his prick _up there_ had never really appealed to him. But Draco was far from ‘some bloke’ and now Harry suddenly wondered if perhaps there was something about it that he might be missing. Harry frowned and gave himself another stroke. Draco certainly seemed to enjoy himself. He’d offered to top a time or two, but Harry had said no and each time Draco hadn’t pressed it and they’d gone on to have really brilliant sex. Certainly there had to be something to it, or Draco wouldn’t be so keen to do it all the time. And Draco was _very_ keen to do it.

Still frowning, his fingers left his cock, creeping back between his legs. His fingertips brushed over his entrance, and in response that little puckered hole twitched in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Harry began to move his fingers more firmly, sliding them over his arse without actually breaching it. No, that wasn't unpleasant at all. In fact, that was quite nice. He reached for the small bottle of lube they kept next to the shampoo and used it to slick his fingers. Then he positioned one fingertip over the entrance and gently pushed inside, just the way he’d done to Draco hundreds of times. He could feel his body stretching slightly to accommodate the intrusion, and clenched experimentally. Oh. Well. That was actually rather good.

He slowly pushed the finger further in, feeling his body relaxing under his own ministrations, before he added a second finger. Harry clenched his arse again, reveling in the new sensations. He slowly slid his fingers in and out a few times, moving his left hand down to pull on his cock. It felt good, but the angle was wrong. It seemed awkward to do with just his fingers. It’d certainly be easier if he had Draco here. He’d certainly be willing to loan the use of his cock for such experimentation. But barring that, perhaps something cock-shaped would be the next best thing?

Harry removed his fingers from himself and shut off the water, glancing quickly around the bathroom for something to use to aid him in his discoveries. Maybe the handle of something. The handle of Draco's hairbrush? No, Draco would murder him if he found out.

Harry wandered out into the bedroom, pausing to pluck his wand from his trousers pocket as he passed his clothing on the floor. Nothing in the bedroom. Kitchen, maybe? He went down the stairs, one hand idly stroking up and down the length of his erection. In the kitchen, he began to open up drawers, sifting through each for something that might suit his purposes. The handle of a wooden spoon? Harry had visions of splinters. Rolling pin? Far too huge, it’d never fit. Handle of the spatula? Too narrow, and flat besides. Handle of the potato masher?

That might just work, actually. Harry picked it up and examined it. Not too long, not too wide, and slightly tapered at the end to fit well in the hand. He bit his lip, turning the utensil over in his palms. Did he really dare? His cock throbbed at the thought of those inches of black rubber pressed snugly inside him. Oh yes. Yes he did indeed.

Besides. Draco never had to find out about this.

Eager now, Harry tapped the end of his wand to the handle of the potato masher and whispered a lubricating charm, coating the black rubber in a thin layer of slick gel. Leaning over the counter, he nudged the end of the handle up against his entrance and pressed. It slid inside far easier than he’d dared imagine, and he paused for just a moment to revel in the fantastic fullness he felt. Then he slid it out, and back in again. Harry groaned. He was starting to see why Draco had never kicked up a fuss about bottoming all the time.

It was somewhat awkward to pleasure himself from both ends, but Harry quickly fell into a rhythm of stroking and sliding, his right hand tight on his cock, his left guiding the masher in and out of himself. His hips began to rock, and he couldn't stop the moan that rose from his throat.

He licked his lips and tossed his head back, his eyes falling shut. “Oh, oh god...”

Harry thrust his hips backward a little too vigorously, and a sheer jolt of pleasure coursed through him. His eyes flew open and he gasped. Tentatively, he moved again, and another jolt leapt through his body. Your prostate, a corner of Harry’s mind whispered to him. Images of Draco panting and keening beneath him danced through his mind, of how Draco would toss his head and wail, _Oh fuck, Harry, right there, right THERE!_

His hips rocked harder, and he could hear little mewling noises sliding from between his lips, but he couldn’t help it, it just felt so good and oh god he was so close now so close--

“Harry?”

Harry whirled around to face Draco. The protruding end of the potato masher struck the cabinet behind him, jostling deliciously against that sweet spot inside him, and then he was coming. Stars danced before his eyes and he gasped helplessly as hot seed spurted over his fingers. The stars faded, revealing Draco lounging against the doorframe, looking far more amused than any one person had any right to look.

“I... it’s... it’s not what you think,” Harry stammered.

“Really, now,” Draco drawled, that insufferable smirk still plastered across his face. “Because it looked an awful lot like you were having one off with our potato masher stuck up your bum.”

Well, damn.

Harry couldn’t look Draco in the eye. He bowed his head and stared at his deflating prick, and the spunk that dribbled between his fingers to drip onto the tile floor. That wasn’t a whole lot better, so he stared up at the ceiling instead. He could feel his cheeks flaming.

“You’re home early,” he said at last.

“And you can’t possibly know how glad I am of that. I wouldn’t have missed this little show for the world.”

“Well, it wasn’t supposed to be a show,” Harry grumbled. “I was just a bit curious, that’s all. And you weren’t home, so...” He gestured vaguely with his free hand.

He wanted desperately to remove the masher, but if he did then he'd have to stand there with it in his hand with the handle glistening wetly as a silent testament to where it had been. That was probably worse than standing here with it jutting out from his backside like a perverted little tail. At least Draco couldn’t see it back there.

“Please,” he said, and finally brought his eyes down from the ceiling to risk a glance at Draco. “I’d rather, um, not talk about this.”

He thought that Draco would press the matter, but instead he just nodded.

“Alright, but there’s just one thing I’m going to say before I go, and then we’ll never speak of this incident again, if you like.”

“Okay?”

Amusement still shone in Draco’s eyes, but his voice was low and steady and serious. “If you wanted to try this, Harry, you should have come to me. I’d have been more than happy to help you out, and you’ll recall I’ve got quite a bit of practical knowledge I could pass along to you.” He smirked. “And if you wish to continue your, ahem, experiments, it would be my greatest pleasure to assist.”

Harry nodded. “That sounds... nice,” he said finally.

“Tomorrow, then. Or perhaps later tonight, if you feel up to it.” Draco turned to leave, then paused just within view of the kitchen. “Oh, and Harry,” he called over his shoulder.

“Hm?”

“In the event that you should wish to embark upon a bit more solo exploration, I’d suggest the handle of the egg whisk.” He winked at Harry. “It has a much more pleasing shape to it.”


End file.
